A Robin's Song
by Knight Basilisk
Summary: R' for whatever may come. AU. Engaged to Koriand'r (Starfire), Richard (Robin) feels like he's the luckiest prince alive. But is he happy? Not until a certain someone shows up in his life and turns his life around. RavenxRobin pairing.
1. Chapter One

Listen to the winds.

They're telling a tale.

Remember this song

Of love gone wrong

From the beak of a robin.

* * *

**A Robin's Song**

_...Of sorrow. _

_...Of lonliness. _

_...Of desperation. _

_...Of love. _

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

The skies of blue seemed endless. A bird flew past the busy streets of the old kingdom catching the joyful praises of the young ones. It flapped its wings a few times, beating against the wind, and yet, the bird also used this same wind as leverage to gain more altitude. It flew into the high, noon sun and then disappeared from their sight.

Of course, nobody was paying attention to this bird save a few children and for one that gazed upon it through one of the high windows of the castle. The thick bricks that served as an efficient wall also dimmed the inside making it almost a perpetual darkness and a nice cover from the people outside.

It was fine for this gentleman that had focused his eyes on the bird of flight. He had crossed his arms and leaned against the wall when upon cross-examining one of God's many creatures. A breeze found its way in through the window and gently played upon his shoulder-length, black hair that he had tied up with one of the ribbons his fiancée had the delight of presenting to him.

Ah, yes. His fiancée. His young, giddy, and most distressing fiancée. She had laughed and danced and giggled and fussed into his mind, but not his heart. Well, she wasn't that bad of a looker with her deliciously revealing clothes and her bouncy, round...attitude.

She was a Tamaranian. They were known far and wide for their beauty. And the fact that she was also a princess, no less, was impressive. How did he come across her? It was fate, he supposed. Yes, she was quite the catch that any prince would die for. He warily fancied that maybe he did die the day he met her...A silent sigh unknowingly escaped from his lips.

"It's a robin."

"Huh?" The contemplative face gone, the aforesaid gentleman turned to look at the stranger who disturbed his thoughts.

Another young man stepped from the shadows of the castle. "That's what they are, right?" He smiled and crossed his arms. "I **am** the expert of animals around here. I should know." He walked up to the window and stared outside. "It's always an awesome sight to see them in flight." He chuckled at his little rhyme and stepped away from the window to pay his homage to the prince. He bowed and held his right arm over his heart with the folds of his jade-colored clothes waving in the breeze. Before he looked down, he wasn't at all surprised to see the stoic face of the prince after he cracked his little joke. But that was royalty for you. In all due respect, he thought, they had a seriously long stick up their butts.

"Your mistress summons for you, Your Highness."

The prince gave him a glare with his hazel-brown eyes. "You know to give her more respect than that, Logan ." He lowered his arms and the breeze gently lifted the sleeves of his silky, blue-green apparel like the rising and falling of calm waves.

"My humblest apologies, sire. Your darling princess requests for your presence." Logan bowed again as his Royal Highness passed by. Logan furrowed his eyebrows, turned, and looked at him. "Richard," he began. He looked at him square in the eye, his olive-green ones narrowing. "Robins are happiest when they're released from their cage of despair."

Richard gazed at him, his eyes discreetly showing that he was contemplating this sudden outburst. But then it was thrown aside when he closed his eyes in frustration and turned on his heels and walked down the echoing halls to meet his princess. Logan followed behind and stayed a good few feet away from his sudden mood swing.

"How long have you been standing back there?" Richard asked after a few minutes of silent walking.

"Long enough...to be bored," Logan replied. He scratched his short, dark, auburn hair at his question, but he shrugged it off.

They finally arrived at his fiancée's chambers. Richard knocked on the dark-brown door with its magnificently carved intricacies. On the other side, a high-pitched laugh and some clapping drowned him out, so he practically banged on the door before someone finally noticed and opened it.

There was no need for introductions. Everyone was sprawled all over the floors, the couches, and the steps that led up to the princess's curtain-drawn bed. As for the one who had opened the door, it seemed only by accident he had lost his footing and pulled on the door's handle for support. Richard had knocked the poor soul down and onto his friend's lap when he swung it open. The room was a royal...mess. But Richard was afraid to think these thoughts about his fiancée. Instead, he dismissed them and simply went blind to the current state of her room.

Another thing the Tamaranians were known for far and wide was their large sense of celebration, thought Logan . But he wasn't one to dampen a good carousal once in a while, either. He surveyed the room with a raised eyebrow. They weren't barbarians of the celebrating sort, but they believed to make many friends as soon as possible. Hence, the condition of the room, the amount of people—it was forgivable. She simply didn't embrace their culture, yet. In fact, this would have been thought of as indecent to their people. But she was an innocent girl deep down, hidden in those piquant gowns and mature body of hers.

Logan stayed behind while Richard ventured further. He made his careful way around the princess's guests, sometimes stepping over them. One man had stopped drinking to squint at the prince, but gave up at the idea whether or not he was being delusional or he really did see the prince walk by. A few steps before he reached the pink veil around his fiancée's bed, a behemoth woman stopped him and twirled him around. He held onto his invisible mask void of emotions and actually gave her the time of day to listen.

"My friend, are you... (she hiccupped) are you...my friend?"

It seems that this dull-witted cur was converted by the Tamaranian princess. He slowly picked off her hand that firmly held onto his arm. "Well, yes, I suppose so." He decided that he should entertain the wretch for awhile. This may seem amusing.

"Then...(hiccup)...we shall kiss as friends."

Well, that's enough entertainment. He tried turning around but she still insisted that they lock lips. It was high time he put an end to this.

"I'm sorry, but if you do, I'll be sure to hang you for this. ...Friend." Richard narrowed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin, but he kept it in check...in his own way. After all, first Logan's comment, then this little festival/hullabaloo/orgy of insanity—however you look at it—and then this sudden touching of royalty—he could only take so much, and he was about to explode.

His threat did its work on the woman and soon she bounded off to where Logan was standing and asked him the same question to which he nervously tried to squirm his way out of. Richard inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly. He marched towards his fiancée's bed, but stopped at the sight.

He saw two shadows in there—one belonging to his princess, and another one with the shape of a big muscular man. Obviously, he had shown her something that made her thoughtfully squeal in delight and clap her hands. **This **offense Richard could not ignore. He stomped up the steps and pulled apart the curtains.

He revealed Koriand'r, the Tamaranian princess, in one of her outlandish gowns and a male bodyguard that was, he saw in disgust, fully naked. The smell was overwhelming that he could almost vomit. She sat on the right side of the bed and he sat on the other side with an expression of consternation.

But Koriand'r, the innocent and naïve girl that she was, simply stood up and wrapped her arms around Richard's neck. "Oh, Richard, darling, I'm very much certain I am glad that you are here to join us." Her bright-green eyes sparkled in joy as she gazed upon his face.

The prince on the other hand, had a murderous look in his eyes as he glared daggers at the bodyguard. "Koriand'r, dear, would you kindly step outside, for a minute, please?" The princess showed a confused look upon her face, but obeyed her fiancée's stern command and gracefully walked outside the door, her purple gown seemingly floating in the air, trailing behind her.

As soon as she stepped outside, a vein popped in Richard's temples. "Okay, listen to me, you worthless maggots!" he yelled. Logan quickly closed the door from the princess's range of hearing. Everyone else snapped out of their daze from their rude awakening. They blinked a couple of times and finally realized in horror that their pretty and nice hostess was gone to be replaced by the uptight prince. "That's right, wake up, you revolting sacks soaked in self-pity! Now, if you cherish your lives, you all had better not show your repulsive faces in my presence, ever again! And you—," he said, suddenly turning his head and scowled at the brute on the bed. "Your manhood will be chopped off for your atrocious behavior against royalty."

The face the guard had given him was priceless. He was pale and his whole body shook at the thought. He had only done what the princess had asked of him, and this was the penalty of even showing her. How could he ever appear before his wife, again? He bowed his head in shame.

"Now that we've reached an understanding, get out of here, now!" And with that last order, everyone stumbled about, some picking up their discarded clothes and some dropping their golden chalices, or keeping them. Whatever. As long as they were out of his sight in three seconds, he didn't care.

Logan stepped out of the way and watched their fear-struck faces go by. _'They really are fools,'_ he stated bluntly. They should have known better than to act like this in front of **the** most uptight prince in the land.

Koriand'r turned to face the door slamming on the walls when it was suddenly opened for all of her beloved guests to run out of. They rushed out of her room like stampeding, wild beasts in search of safety.

Something happened within her chambers. She could see it plainly on their faces. But, what—she could only guess. She ran inside after the naked bodyguard stumbled out.

"Richard! What happened?" she asked with sadness gracing her features. "My dear friends—why did they run away?" She ran up to his arms and stared deeply in his eyes. "Why did you drive them away?" She was on the brink of tears. "You are such a horrible person!" She turned around and wept in her hands.

Richard couldn't help but be like melted butter in her hands. He never liked seeing beautiful women cry, so, he did his best to stop her tears. "Koriand'r...please, don't cry."

"I cannot. For I see how it is going to be in the future with my future husband. He shall take away all of my friends and force me to live in the darkness that he houses himself in. I shall become a pitiful woman, bent with sorrow and sadness." She cried more tears.

He hugged her waist and laid his head on top of hers. He smelled her sweet scent and made a promise. "You know I'll never do anything to hurt you. I would do anything for you." He reveled in her beauty once more. But that was interrupted by a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Koriand'r turned and smiled sweetly. "That is good to know," she replied and pulled Richard into a kiss. She pressed on and finally parted his lips and played shortly with his tongue. She slowly worked her breasts up and down against his chest to finally get a reaction from him. His strong arms moved down her back and onto her perfectly round and soft butt.

Yes, she was a remarkably provocative woman. Yes, she always pressed the right buttons...but there was something that always lingered in his mind—a question that would not go away, but only grew stronger over time: Why did he do it?

It was a simple question. He also had a simple answer. It was because he loved her. But why did he always question himself? Of _course_, he loved her. Because he loved her, he would always give in to her kisses and sensual touch. A million times he repeated that phrase, "He loved her." What they were doing now felt right because he loved her.

Why did he have to keep reminding himself of his love for her?

He pulled away and smiled. "Later, my sweet Starfire." She nodded in reply and happily skipped away, returning to her own little world.

Richard felt like collapsing on her bead, but restrained himself because one, his friend and mentor was still there and he didn't want to show any weakness, and two, the earlier events that took place on that bed forced him to firmly stand his ground.

He turned to face his friend a few seconds after he fiancée left the room, but only received a glance and then Logan turned his head elsewhere.

"You think I'm weak...don't you?"

The young man in green kept his silence. The young prince walked up to his friend. "Admit it. Your thoughts dwell on the fact that I can be manipulated by the princess. Well, you're wrong."

Logan swiftly turned his head. "I just think that you're suffocating in your own cage that she built around you." His sudden outburst was fueled by the prince's pushing. He couldn't take anymore of this. The royal prince was facing a slow death. As his friend, he needed to point out his mistakes and his errors before it was too late.

But their conversation was cut short when a woman covered in a midnight-blue cloak sailed through the window and broke through the wooden pillars of Koriand'r's bed before hitting the wall. When the dust cleared, Richard and Logan put their bickering aside and rushed to help the unconscious woman.

"Don't touch her."

The prince turned around and saw a tall figure cloaked in white standing on the window sill. His silver hair whipped about in the violent wind from the storm that was brewing outside. His cape was held in place around his shoulders by the symbol of Azarath etched within the shining red jewel chaining the folds together.

"She is mine to kill."

_'Kill?'_ Richard repeated in his mind. What was he to do? Let this madman claim his victim? Although he knew he could act vainglorious most of the time, he still had a sense of justice that always gripped his soul. But what about the woman? Maybe she was dangerous, as well. She wasn't awake for him to question, so, he knew there was only one thing to do.

"This is my kingdom. You and your people are forbidden to trespass into these lands. Get out."

The stranger narrowed his eyes, but nodded in understanding. "I will once I have her."

He thought for a moment. "She is under the protection of this kingdom. Now, leave." What was he doing? More importantly, what was he getting into?

"I will not. Not until her heart is in my hands."

"Then," he said pulling out his sword that lay sheathed beside his left thigh, "I'll have to force you out." The blade glimmered in the dim light that was produced by the candles that were left lit in the room. He gripped the leather-bound handle tightly with his right hand.

This was the most demented thing he had ever decided upon. He was about to fight off an intruder for the safety of a woman that might be as crazy as the man from Azarath. But...

All he felt right now was that he needed to protect her. In the inside, he felt something dormant was about to awaken.

"I'll make you regret you ever placed your vulgar feet in this kingdom."

_[To be continued]_

* * *

**A/N **

Oh look. Another Robin/Raven fic. And it's posted the day after I wrote "Flight of the Dark Angel." And it's even cheesier than the last.

Sorry, I have this habit of not finishing fics to start a new one. It's not like I don't have this sick and twisted fantasy of making all my readers suffer...oh wait. It is.

Juuust kidding. I just had this urge to make an "old-kingdom/medieval/fairytale." So, sorry to those who wanted a chapter 2 of FOTDA. I'm workin on it. Don't worry.

Let me lay it out for you.

It's obvious that everyone's in Medieval mode. Robin—or rather, his real name, Richard—is the prince of Thrush. Now, if you're not lazy to look up robins on encarta, you'd understand why I named it that. And for those of you who are lazy like me, I'll just spill the details.

**Robin**, name first given to a small European bird of the thrush family, familiar in England ...

Now that was taken directly from Encarta. I don't feel like typing any more upon that. It's 3:00 AM in the morning.

Richard is engaged to Koriand'r aka Starfire. She belongs to the Tamaran Kingdom . That should be a "duh."

Beast Boy is Logan . I couldn't find his real name. I found a site that said his name was...Garfield Logan??? Okay, so I stuck with Logan . There. That's Beast Boy.

Raven...is Raven. No other aliases.

About the guy in the window sill? You'll find out later. Unless you figured it out now. Ah, well.

Richard is 29, Logan and later on, Cyborg are 27, Raven and Koriand'r are 25.

Apologies for any mistakes. I reiterate that it's 3 AM.

Discuss.


	2. Chapter Two

The morning comes.

A tale is sung.

The love he had

Was dipped in sin.

This is the cry

Heard from a robin.

* * *

**A Robin's Song**

_...Of sorrow. _

_...Of loneliness. _

_...Of desperation. _

_...Of love. _

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_'I'll make you regret you ever placed your vulgar feet in this kingdom.' _

He slowly rethought every word that had come out of his mouth. Since when did he become so cocky? Well, it was too late, now. Those were fighting words, and the battle was about to begin. The Azarathian snorted in the most graceful way possible that irritated the prince.

"This is foolishness, prince. You will be killed." The stranger hopped down from the ledge and irritated Richard even more when he landed softly on his feet.

"That's the worst threat I've ever heard. Swans scare me more than you."

"You have such a big mouth for a prince. Well, I suppose that runs in the family."

Richard tightened his grip. "Trespassing and now, you resort to insults? I won't make you regret. I'll make you suffer."

"You're full of hot air. That's what you Thrush royalty are made up of." He smiled a bit before disappearing from the room.

Richard blinked his eyes in disbelief. He swiveled his head from side to side, up and down, certain that there was no sight of him. But the man from Azarath suddenly appeared before his face and executed a balletic backhand to the prince's cheek.

"Nothing but air."

The Thrush prince experienced pain before, but this felt a thousand times worse. The hit made an exploding sound in his head and he spiraled towards the wall face-first. After peeling himself off the cracked walls, he landed on his right knee and blinked a few times from shock and in desperately getting his blurry vision back to normal—but mostly from shock. He remembered his current, open-for-any-attack position and swirled around.

"Young master, that was only the back of my hand. Stop now and I will spare your life."

"You and your mercy...it's you who should be begging for your life." He grinned confidently at the double vision he was seeing. So, he opted to close the eye that pained him the most. Dear God, his insides were burning with pain. His wrist already felt swollen from the impact with the wall and his sword was slipping from his grip. Blood mixed with sweat trickled down his forehead and ran across his closed right eye. Damn it, he was such a tender and weak pansy.

But he shook it from his thoughts. He needed to concentrate on his enemy's weaknesses, his faults. Unfortunately, he wasn't displaying any—which was to Richard's disadvantage.

The stranger chuckled. "You know what? We'll fight...when you're stronger than a rat. As for now, I think I'll take her back with me." He walked across the room towards the blue-clad woman feeling rather high and mighty with his strength and power. It was quite an experience to finally teach the bastard of Thrush a lesson or two. He kneeled down and proceeded to scoop her into his arms when suddenly he felt the edge of a blade on the verge of cutting his throat. "What the hell...?"

Richard had quickly made his way towards him and held his sword with steel-like determination. No matter how much his head was pounding, no matter how many muscles were tearing, no matter how many deaths he will die right there at that spot, there was one thing he knew for sure. "Touch her and I will not hesitate to spill your blood with my sword." He ground his teeth at the sudden pain on his right wrist. But he held his sword steady. "Your fight...is with me."

"If you wanted me to kill you that badly, you should have said so." He pushed off the floor with his right foot to stand up and stepped back while the point of the prince's sword followed his movement. His eyes also never left the blade of the sword, scrutinizing the details found where the sharpened metal met the hilt. His casual demeanor changed to one of contemplation. _That sword is..._ His thoughts trailed off as he meditated and chanted a few words causing a mass of black shrouds circulating above his palm. It was a mesmerizing site to those who have never before seen someone from Azarath conjuring up their powers.

Richard tried to stay focused. What was he doing? Was this another one of his tricks? _'Most definitely,'_ he decided. The shroud then elongated and formed a sharpened tip that was a yard long. It looked like a twisted version of a sword. Its flame-like appearance licked the air and its edges crawled on its own volition. He knew he was crazy for thinking such thoughts, but it seemed that the sword was alive.

Now, how in the seven levels of hell are you supposed to fight something like that? He grasped his own sword with both of his hands that made a metal "chink" sound. " Logan , get her out of here!" He glanced to where his friend was knocked back. "Now!" he practically yelled.

Logan nodded his head and swiftly grabbed the woman and carried her away like an eagle swooping down upon a rabbit. "Richard," he said stopping at the doorway. "Be careful."

"She's not leaving this room," commanded the man in white. His eyes faintly glowed a dim, reddish color and soon he was above Logan ready to erase them from existence with one swift, downward motion.

"No!" Richard yelled and threw himself in front of his friend.

The room was set ablaze; a light brighter than the flames of the candle stubs enveloped them all. There was no loud explosion—everything was eerily silent when it occurred. When the illumination dimmed down a bit, Logan squinted his eyes and saw his friend holding his sword horizontally to block the attack of the black sword. The pressure was too great for Richard, so he used his other arm to hold up the blade's end from being pushed down.

"W-what...are you waiting for? A-an invitation?!" Richard said sneering. He breathed heavily under the weight of the enemy. "Go," he whispered harshly, "now..."

Logan didn't stay long enough to hear his whispered command and took off running down the halls. Where to go, exactly, he wasn't sure, himself. He prayed that his feet knew where they were taking him.

The intruder widened his eyes at the slimming chance of ever catching his prey. It was all thanks to this nosey bastard that had made everything gone awry. But he could sense that this gutless wonder's energy was decreasing with each passing second. If he could just keep him swinging for a while, then, he'll strike the inferior down. He pushed off with his sword and swung it to his right as he did a back flip in the air. His hair wildly thrashed about with all of his dark energy flying around the room like shards of glass.

"Is that all you have? You're just a drop in a bucket compared to what I am."

With his size of an ego, Richard could not just stand by and let that mongrel's words slide past him. His blood boiled and gave him an extra charge of energy to run towards the bastard. The point of his sword was aimed directly at the man's heart and he placed his left palm on the bottom of the handle to have a bigger push once he had pierced through the skin.

But that fancy never happened. The Azarathian swordsman parried his attack with his sword and summoned another one with his free hand. He swung it horizontally hoping to slice open the prince's stomach.

Richard dodged it with his skin in tact, but his clothes suffered the blow. He stumbled backwards, but he was on his feet again swinging his sword rather frenziedly for the next few seconds just hoping to slash the outsider's skin. He was losing it. His wild swings were a sign of desperation to hold on to his life. He felt a cold sensation slice through his left arm, and shortly, his sleeve was soaked in blood. Those flying black shrouds had gotten one of his arms with their erratic movements. He must calm down. He had to, or else this battle would be over in an instant.

If those black shadows, whatever they are, held substance, maybe he could just... Finally, with a plan formulated in his mind, he ran forward, boldly approaching his destiny with each step.

The silver-haired man raised an eyebrow. "Come, now, prince. You're starting to repeat yourself."

He heard what that insufferable knave said. But he chose to ignore it. The task at hand was not an easy matter and he needed concentration. With each black mass shooting here and there, varying in their speeds, it was hard to pick out the right one. He felt another black shard slicing through his calf. But he couldn't stop, now. He was so close...

He was so very close to the range of his swing, the Azarathian thought. Just a bit closer and he can chop off his head. He could offer it as a gift to the elders who had hated this loathsome kingdom. His chance was—

_'Now!'_ Richard calmly thought with a tinge of excitement filling his soul. He leaped onto one of the black fragments that was about to fly past him...and another...and another... He leapt on one after the other like lily pads on a pond. One almost made him lose his footing, but he decided that it was the last one he would step on and leaped in the air.

All the while, his enemy was watching his every move and slowly tilted his head up to where he would probably be found. He was right. Just directly above his head, Richard had a vertical-slicing pose with his sword securely in his hands. "Haarrghh!"

The man in white stepped out of the way, but Richard pushed his luck and swung horizontally, forcing his body to twist around from the velocity of the swing. After sliding to a stop, he turned his head to see his opponent flip in the air and land safely untouched. The prince crouched down and blocked the incoming attack.

With his arms positioned in front of his face, this offered an opportunity for the Azarathian to give the royal pain in the ass a kick in the stomach which made him double over. He didn't stop there. He swiftly ran, twisted his torso, and did a round-house kick to his face with his left foot. Richard's head bent back and suffered a major whiplash. He tumbled backwards completing three involuntary, sloppy back flips and landed on his hand and knees with his sword sending sparks as it slid across the floor with him. He stood up on wobbly legs and used his weapon as a sort of cane. He jerked forward, but that only succeeded in him coughing out blood. It trickled down the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He could feel his own blood collect in the back of his mouth which forced him to cough even more. He froze when he heard a voice come from behind.

"Do you still value your life? I'll be glad to exchange it for the woman's."

"P...P-piss off," he managed to spit out.

The Azarathian narrowed his eyes at his snide remark. "Fine. I don't need these to defeat you." His swords vanished into thin air as well as the flying black scraps of energy. "I'll just do it the old-fashioned way." He balled up his fists and in a flash he punched Richard's stomach and sent him flying. The intruder pushed off with his foot and was closing in after his victim. With his elbow ready, he held his fist with his other hand and swung forward with his elbow to make sure that it would crush the sapling prince's face in. "Aargh!"

The outsider's eyes widened when he didn't feel anything come in contact with his elbow. He looked down and time seemed to slow down at the presence of...his own death. He knew it. He felt it. He sensed his end when he confronted the prince's deathly calm face with his hazel-brown eyes piercing through the Azarathian's soul. The ebon-haired man's lips parted with a simple word playing on his tongue.

"Die."

It was a blur. That's all it was to the man whose death was just announced. He couldn't see that the prince had spun his body to the left so that he ended up right above the Azarathian's body and spun once more to gain speed to swing his sword. The acceleration of the swing made a clean cut and sliced his body in half, separating the northern and southern hemispheres.

The sheer swiftness and execution of the move made it possible for it all to happen in mid-air. After the sword had ripped through his flesh, time, once again, sped back to normal, letting the body crash onto the ground with sickening thuds and rolled a few feet away.

Richard landed on one knee and let the sword clatter to the ground—the blade no longer shining with greatness. It was just covered with blood and flesh. His breath was steady, though. After going through all that, he still maintained a calm heart-beat. His hair had come loose and was plastered on his face with the sweat and blood flowing out of his wounds. His left eye looked through the slits of his hair and gazed passively at his fallen opponent.

He couldn't believe it. He was alive. He made it through that test and barely passed. Many questions buzzed in his head, though. How was he able to do it? He was like a twig against a mighty oak tree when they started. What sort of miracle was this? His heart started to race from wonder and amazement. He hadn't felt like this ever since he had settled down with the princess.

_The girl...is she okay?_

All other thought processes stopped when that one, single question entered his mind. He stood on his feet, making sure to grab his sword, and walked towards the door. It was nighttime, now, and the only guide he had to find the door was the moonlight reflecting on the iron handle. The candles long burned out from drowning in their own wax and the blood that spattered on them. Before he stepped out of the room, he flicked the blood off his sword and sheathed it, promising himself that he'll clean it later. With the echoing of the door closing in the deserted halls, he made his way towards his own chambers.

Soon, his eyes saw lights illuminating one of the bigger dining halls. The hallway he traversed down also connected with a balcony that overlooked that particularly lit dining hall and he wondered who could be down there. Then, he heard that familiar shrill laughter that could only originate from one being.

He saw Koriand'r, once again, in another one of her "delightful" banquets. Making more friends, as usual, he decided not to step in on this one. Besides, he was tired, his clothes were ripped and drenched in blood, and he smelled to high heaven. Wait...what was he doing before?

Oh, yes. The girl. He needed to get some information out of her. He did, after all save her life.

"Richard?"

The prince quickly turned around with his eyes wide open. "Who is it?" His hands instinctively reached for his sword.

"Hold on there. It's just me, Victor."

_Victor...thank God._ It was his other close friend and mentor that accompanied him throughout the years. His brown skin blended well with the darkness, save for his shiny bald head that gleamed in the moonlight from one of the windows they stood beside. He gaped at his blood-stained friend.

"What happened?! Why are you looking like that?! Who did this to you?! Are you hurt? Because if you are, someone will, in all seriousness, get their asses kicked by my big feet."

Richard put his finger to his mouth and hissed. "Shh! Yes, and also scare them away with your big mouth. Now, keep quiet." He looked back at the dining hall just in case they were heard. He turned once again to his overly-concerned friend. "I'm in need of a favor to ask of you." He waited for his reply.

Victor pursed his lips together and crossed his arms. "First of all, I want an explanation."

"Later. I promise to tell you everything later on. But I desperately need your help."

Victor hesitated. "So, what is it?"

Richard made sure to go slow and kept his voice down. "I need you to lock Koriand'r's room. There's a dead body in there—"

"WHAT?!"

Richard slapped his hands over his mouth. "Please, keep quiet!"

Victor was frantic now. "And how," he yelled in a hushed voice, "did that dead body get in there? Did you have something to do with it?!"

Richard was silent. "Yes," he finally said after a few seconds. "I was the one that did it. I need you to make sure that nobody sees it."

"Holy, mother of—," the black man was hyperventilating.

"It's not what you—," he paused a bit at his friend's heavy breathing. "It's not—(more gasping came out)" Finally, the eldest of the two grabbed the younger one's shoulders and plainly stated in his face, "It's not what you think... Are you calm, now?" He received a nod. "Good. I want you to lock the door and relocate Koriand'r someplace else. But make sure her new room is empty and is as lavishly decorated as her old one. If you happen to find Logan , he'll be with an unconscious woman that he's supposed to guard over. Contact me if you find him. Also, tell him to—,"

"What's he doing with a woman?!"

Richard glowered for a moment and resumed when he was sure his friend would be quiet. "Tell him to wait for me." He let go of Victor's shoulders and asked, "Do you understand?"

The bald, young man nodded his head. "I understand...that you're having an affair with this 'mysterious woman.' What's wrong with Princess Kori? Isn't she breathtaking enough for you? Is she not saaatisfying you?"

Richard stared at him. "Go, you jackass...before I draw all over your shiny, bald head."

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed and left, laughing to himself while Richard sighed loudly.

He silently made his way through the castle and finally reached his chambers. Upon opening the door, he was surprised that he found what he was searching for.

"Oh, my gosh, Richard. You look like something a snake chewed up and spit back out!" Logan got up from his seat next to the desk where a candle was lit. "Any serious injuries? What happened to the strange man that was bent on killing this girl?"

"He's dead."

Logan was speechless. '_How was it possible?'_ he wondered. "Did...you really...?" One look into his eyes confirmed it.

_[To be continued...] _

* * *

**A/N:**

I know I promised a chapter 2 of Flight of the Dark Angel...sorry. I'm a bad girl, aren't I?

Okay, it was pretty hard writing this fic while watching Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

Man, I kinda overdid it, didn't I? I guess you'll be filled...for a short while.

Well, I didn't know how to really describe fight scenes, so I just put down anything that popped in my brain and voila. A whole bunch of paragraphs dedicated to the fight. Although...it would confuse the hell out of you if you don't have a vivid imagination...

I just don't want this to be boring—to anyone (hah. Too late...) and especially to me. _Especially me_. Do you know what would happen if I got bored with this fic? But there are other ways to mess up skinning a cat.

They're OOC aren't they? Hm. I'll try harder next time. It's kind of hard to know how they'll act like when they're all grown up.

Guess who Vic is? That's right, it's the name of Cyborg. Vic Stone. Yay. He's finally in the picture.

Still waiting for those Robin/Raven scenes? You'll get it in the next chapter.

And for those who are having problems mentally envisioning a 29-yr. old Robin...I'll draw a picture for you just for the hell of it.

Ah, the clock strikes 3:15 AM. The time when I finally get to post this chapter.

_Until death do us part. _

_I shall keep writing. _

-Knight.B.


	3. Chapter Three

It spreads its wings

But fails to fly

It turns around

There's nowhere to run

Trapped in its cage,

It sings a sad song.

This is the tale of a robin.

* * *

**A Robin's Song **

_...Of sorrow. _

_...Of loneliness. _

_...Of desperation. _

_...Of love. _

* * *

**Chapter 3 **

* * *

No more jokes. He was both grateful and shocked. Of course, he was. Before he escaped the room with the unconscious woman in his arms, Richard was being pushed back from the intruder's strength. And, now, by some miracle, he escaped with his life.

Logan smiled and said, "I knew you'd make it out." He lied through his teeth. Well, he had his right to doubt the prince's chances in surviving. For the prince to throw his own sword aside after all these years—it is indeed a wonder. "What about her?"

She was still asleep on Richard's bed, covered in one of his heavy blankets. The dim light of the slowly dying flame lit her pale face and cast a soft glow on her black hair. Her light-pink lips parted slightly in dreaming...whatever unconscious women dream about.

Richard gazed at her sleeping form and wondered at what he wouldn't give just to fall into a deep sleep. Forget about what happened earlier. Forget the bruises and the pain. He wanted to embrace...the darkness.

"Hello? Richa-hey! Richard!" Logan reached out for his falling friend. He knew something was wrong when the prince's eyes rolled upwards and his lids closed. Luckily—if you can call it luck— Logan caught his arms before his head hit the ground. He sighed in relief and cradled the black-haired man's head in his hands. Wonderful. Now, he had two people to take care of. Could it possibly get any worse?

"Richard! Richard, my dearest darling!" Her voice echoed down the halls.

Logan froze and his eyes went wide at this sudden misfortune he was cursed with. He had to do something quickly before they all perished from the dragon's fiery breath. His head jerked this way and that, looking for a nice little hiding place for the both of them.

Richard's chamber was nice and big, but to Logan 's horror, it was also empty of any suitable furniture to conceal the bodies. At the same time, his brain furiously worked at making up a believable story to save their sorry hides. Maybe, he could say that the prince was under the weather. 'No,' he thought, rejecting the idea. She would barge in anyways. A minute passed, and every plan he thought of ended with the princess charging in the room and his pathetic body flying out the window. He felt like a rat trapped in a corner about to pay the price of pinching a crumb of cheese.

Another sound of her infamous laughter forced him to stay focused and to come up with the most ingenious thing ever to grace his slow brain. It was then, it hit him. His eyes caught a glimpse of salvation when he spied a seven-ft. wooden cabinet—which he had sworn it wasn't there in the first place—hidden in one of the far, dark corners. With that piece of wooden furniture, he could probably prop the prince up to lean his upper body against it and his feet would push against the wall. And he could without a doubt fit the sleeping damsel underneath the bed since it was placed on metal stilts. For whatever curious reason his Royal Highness had, this peculiarity was a God-send to Logan . After making sure they would not be seen, he could say that the prince was simply not in his room. His plan was perfect.

Now, if only he could pick up the prince and make it to that blessed corner. He slung the languished body's arm around his neck and tried to move. Dear God, since when did Richard get this heavy? He realized in horror that he would never get there in time. What, now? Were they to suffer the wrath of the princess? No, it's not over. Not yet...

On the other side of the door, Victor tried his best to steer her Royal Highness away from Richard's chambers. After locking up her room and telling her that her chamber was now moved someplace else, she became worse than a child with their many questions. He stuttered and pathetically came up with some half-witted excuse, but it didn't matter. She prattled on and on, without even listening to him, before turning around towards her fiancée's room. Naturally, Victor panicked. If she saw the condition of her fiancée, questions would be flying everywhere. Not to mention the bodies of three men—especially the handsome, young, dark-skinned man and his shiny, bald head. That was unthinkable. He didn't even want to dwell upon it. And to prevent it from becoming a reality, he had to try harder.

"Your Highness, maybe we shouldn't disturb the prince. Maybe he's fast asleep, already."

"Dear Victor!" She laughed at his naivety. "We do not sleep this early. The prince and I busy ourselves until the breaking of the dawn." She clasped her hands together and held them tightly between her bouncy breasts. She gave him a big smile and went on her merry way.

Victor fell behind a little and silently decreed with a grimacing face, _'I wouldn't want to know. Even if I was tortured to death, **even if it was the only thing that could save my life**, I wouldn't dare try to find out.'_

They were but a mere three feet away from the door. What was Victor to do? Grab her hands from reaching the door? That would be an offense greater than destroying mankind. There was nothing he _could_ do. He acknowledged the fact that he had run out of time and silently stood behind her to wait for the disastrous outcome.

The princess swung the door open and Victor cringed inwardly. He failed.

"Rich--! -ard?" The Tamaranian princess became confused at what she saw.

Logan stood at the door, obstructing her way into her beloved's room. She had talked to him a few times only in short intervals. But she knew that he and her fiancée were close friends like Victor was also. What was going on?

" Logan , I did not expect to see you. What...are you doing in my fiancée's room?" Something was amiss-she could feel a tingling sensation crawl all over her body.

"Your Highness," Logan began in earnest. "Prince Richard is sick. I'm afraid you can't come in." So, he did end up using the first excuse, after all.

"What?! My precious love! Move! I'm needed to be at his side!" She couldn't believe it. Her Richard was strong against any disease. Why would he falter, now?

Logan took a risk and quickly stepped in front of the princess. "I'm sorry, princess, but the prince has asked me not to let anyone through. Especially, you." He tried to keep himself from cowering under the murderous look she was giving him. "He-he wishes that you stay away to prevent any transfer of his disease onto you." Nice lie, but not enough to convince her. He silently cleared his throat. "He loves you too much for you to suffer like him."

He wondered if that did the trick since she was just staring at him for awhile. But after a few moments, she was back to normal and started to think aloud at how courteous her fiancée was, how caring he seemed, how much love he showed... Logan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"I shall not disturb him. I will go and find a cure to heal my beloved Richard! He will get better for I am Koriand'r, princess of the Tamaranians! No disease is big enough to conquer our love!" And, so, she spun around and ran down the halls, almost knocking Victor down who was in awe at Logan 's play-acting.

Her clattering footsteps soon died down as the princess raced on towards the library. Oblivious to the other's thoughts, they both mused that she was sure to get lost since she never took the time to learn of its location. Victor looked back at Logan who had leaned against the wall. Was Logan joking, or was the prince really in trouble? His question was answered when the auburn-haired man chuckled. Victor crossed his arms and smirked.

"That was an admirable act. I commend you, you little imp." He shook his head at his friend's ability to weasel his way through tough situations.

"Yes. And she was so taken in that she didn't even bother to ask what disease he had. But just in case she does, I'll be ready for her."

"Mm, hm." Okay, the suspense was killing him. "So, where's Richard?" He had to know before he ripped off his non-existent hair from anticipation.

"Sleeping like a babe." They both walked in the room and Logan led the way towards his bed. He pulled back the covers and revealed both of the sleeping beauties lying face to face.

"Are you crazy?!" Victor yelled, grabbing Logan 's garments and took him by surprise. "What if Princess Koriand'r decided to run in and discover him like this?!"

"Quiet down, you barbarian!" Logan whispered in irritation. "She wouldn't have and she didn't. That's all that matters!"

Victor growled in frustration. "I cannot **believe** you... So, now, what?"

Logan shifted his clothes back to normal. "Well...we'll just have to stay outside and guard the door from anyone who'll try to enter. ...Until Richard comes out."

"What about her? Are we going to leave them like this?"

That was a good point. What if she woke up? No doubt she'll want an explanation. What if she was as loud as the princess? What were they to do if she grabs everyone's attention with her loud voice? Can she even be trusted with their prince? This was giving him a headache.

"Hm, we can't exactly carry them to separate rooms. There's bound to be a guard at every corner. If they were to see us with either one of them—you know how fast news travels around here." His weaseling skills were quickly failing him. "The only thing I can come up with is that one of us will stay in here, in case the prince or the girl were to wake up. The other one will have to stand guard outside the door." Yes, this was such a hassle. The prince owed them both a kingdom, or two, for the lengths they went through to keep his reputation in tact.

Victor hesitantly agreed to this proposition, and they both took their respective places— Logan guarded the door, ready to talk his way out of anyone's suspicions, and Victor sat on a chair, waiting for one of the two to wake up. This was going to be a long night.

Somewhere beyond the scope of reality, the mysterious woman dreamt illusions that were far from her concept of understanding. Before too long, the dream turned into a nightmare.

Her breathing quickened at the darkness that surrounded her. Although she was comforted at the thought of it shielding her from those that wanted her life, she couldn't dismiss the fact that it was, at the same time, unnerving. They may not be able to see her, but she also couldn't see her enemies, either.

Suddenly, the darkness had gained a more tangible form and took shape right before her. It was an unrecognizable shape—its flame-like tentacles whipping about and its mass changing positions every so often. But she didn't see this. She couldn't. She had felt it, though. Something pulsed in her body every time the "thing" disturbed the air, whether through shape-shifting or position-shifting.

An image flashed for a moment on the creature's growing mass. She blinked a few times and shook her head in distress. She tried to scream, but she only managed to plead in a small voice, "No, please, don't come any closer..." Tears ran down her eyes and she prayed for someone to come to her rescue. But she knew it wouldn't work. It never worked. Prayer was something given to the pitiful and the weak—to give them an impossible hope.

She was nearing her end. The cold took gripped her soul, and the congealed black mass was almost upon her, until...

There was something else that started to pulse within her being. It was faint, at first, but it grew stronger. Soon, her heart matched the beat, and a red glow illuminated the center of her chest. This light that emanated from her body flooded her with warmth, melting the frost that formed on her soul.

What was happening? Who could be causing this? She turned around, but she saw nothing.

Returning to the bounds of their present world, the sleeping prince had unknowingly inched his way closer to the woman's body and wrapped his arms around her, trying to escape the unbearable cold that hung in the air of the castle. Also unaware of what occurred, was the one that was supposed to keep watch but, instead, fell asleep.

†

Dawn was breaking just over the horizon. But no one noticed. The skies were gray with large clouds looming over their heads. Rain—it was what most of the inhabitants of Thrush thought. The winds blew a cold, northerly wind that pierced the skin of everyone that stood outside. The day would be a miserable one—like God Himself was angered with the world.

Poor Logan had also slept, unwillingly. He sat on the floor with his head resting on his chest. His arms were slack and his feet were outstretched—he was a perfect image of an oversized rag doll. But something stirred him from his sweet slumber. At first, he thought he was still dreaming and dismissed the thought. But when it grew louder, his head finally pulled him out of dreamland and slowly, but surely, opened his eyes. He blinked them in a rather lethargic manner and yawned. He had stopped mid-yawn and was horrified at what he saw.

Their Royal Majesties—the King and the Queen—approached him with a solemn air about them. The king had on a blue, royal garb with his wife in a matching outfit. Logan staggered to his feet and dusted his clothes. When they were close enough, Logan briefly stared into both of their faces and bowed.

The King's glanced at the young man. His eyes, that were as black as his hair, held a sort of concern in a nonchalant way. He rarely showed his feelings—a trait that was the perfect, stereotypical king. You would think that someone like him wouldn't bother to check up on his son. But Logan, who grew up in the castle with this man, knew better.

On the other hand, his wife was showing more than enough concern on her face. Her eyebrows were distressingly creased and her green eyes were bright from worry. Her orange hair, which was usually tied up in dignified beauty, was draped on her left shoulder in a braid.

How could he have not considered this possibility? He was such a half-wit. He needed time to think this through because there was nothing you can put past the old man. He had the wits of a sage—a young and healthy one, at best.

"Dear child," began the Queen. "We heard the agonizing news of our son. How is his condition?" She grabbed her cloak tighter since she could not squeeze her husband's arm even more.

Logan tried to psyche himself up. _'Just remember how you did it with the princess. Just remember. Be civilized. Be clever. Be persuasive. This is nothing...'_ Logan was ready. He opened his mouth and—

"..."

Nothing came out. Logan had lost his nerve just when he looked into their concerned eyes. He couldn't lie to them—they were like his own parents ever since he had lost his real ones...

"Stand aside," commanded the king in a steady voice.

"Your Majesty...I-I...," Logan stuttered. "I can't," he whispered.

The king raised his eyebrows at this. He can't even be allowed to see his own son? It was unthinkable. Yes, they did have their differences, but this is different. This time, it may be his last to ever face his own flesh and blood. "What are you saying?"

The queen nodded her head. "What do you mean?"

_'Do it, Logan . Just say the prince doesn't want any visitors!' _He couldn't. _He couldn't_. He couldn't! Damn his pathetic soul to hell!

"What's going on?"

Saints be praised! Logan turned around quickly and faced redemption. The door opened wider and revealed Richard, who was fixing the collar of his red outfit. By another miracle, he was clean from head to toe—no visible scratches were to be seen. It was like yesterday never happened.

Richard tied his hair with a red ribbon and left it dangling on the edge of his right shoulder. "Good morning, father, mother."

Richard's mother breathed a word of relief and hugged her son. He looked fine. There was nothing to be worried about. "Oh, Richard, we thought you were deathly sick from what Princess Koriand'r had relayed to us." She let go of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She could have sworn he had a look of confusion gracing his face that disappeared in an instant. "But from the looks of things, you're looking more than healthy...and more handsome than usual."

"...Mother..." Richard could feel his temperature rising. In the end, he still acted like a shy child in the face of the Queen.

Yes, indeed. There was nothing to be worried about. He was grateful his son had not caught anything fatal, but since everything was fine, the king couldn't help but be a little irritated. "Well, then, if the boy isn't chained to his bed with a deadly disease—come, Barbara. No need to waste any more time here."

_'Thanks a lot, father, for caring...'_ Richard said nothing and glared at something nonexistent on the wall behind him.

The Queen ignored the insensitive remark...for now. She gave a small kiss on her son's cheeks and resumed her place beside her husband. When she thought they were out of their son's range of hearing, she began scolding her husband. "Now, Bruce..."

The prince watched the disappearing forms of his parents. Nothing could ever please that man...

"Richard, not to disrupt your thoughts...but where did your wounds go? I know I saw a few cuts and your face wasn't looking too pretty." He crossed his arms and looked at the walls, trying to see if they held any answers. "You...you _did_ fight, right? That wasn't a dream...or am I still dreaming?" He rubbed his temples. "What's in the world happened? You couldn't have healed so quickly!"

The black-haired man nodded. "Yes...well...I don't know how to explain it. When I woke up, I didn't suffer any pain from yesterday. I thought it was all a dream. But when I saw—" He stopped himself. He was about to tell his friend the fact that he held the sleeping woman in his arms—a great indication that it wasn't at all a dream. He carefully chose his next words and resumed. "When I saw...my blood-stained clothes, I knew that what happened wasn't an illusion." It was puzzling him to no end. He knew he couldn't overlook this strange chance of luck.

But first things, first. His stomach growled in pain and he remembered he missed yesterday's lunch and dinner. He invited Logan for some breakfast. 

"What about our unconscious guest?"

"She'll be fine. I asked Victor to look after her in exchange for a meal. If she needs anything, Victor's a good physician and a decent fighter. He'll be able to handle whatever trouble she gives him."

"Right, then. What are we waiting for?"

_[To be continued...] _

* * *

**A/N:**

Yes, indeedy. To be continued. Although...I **could** have added more, but it's that time again. 3:30 AM. Time to post the chaputar.

I know it got sloppy. Sorry, sorry. I just hated writing this part. The reason? I couldn't think of anything to put in between Robin winning and Raven leaving. But voila. There you go. Some inbetween stuff that you can be amused with.

Today's magic number is: 3,331. I did a word count on Microsoft Word. That's how many words, excluding the author's notes, are in this chapter. Wow. Can I get a witness? Hah. Normally, I wouldn't write that much.

But, in all honesty, I won't make it long if it feels like it's dragging. Tell me if this is dragging like a bag of wet potatoes. A big-nasty, gargantuan one, at that. I hate dragging. If I had to drag something, it would be my fat ass from boredom.

As for summaries...have I ever told you I suck at writing them? Well...now you know.

Okay, then. Oh, and one more thing.

So, I kinda forgot that the word "awesome" originated in the late 1500's. And the Middle Ages ended at about early/middle 1400's. Did you know that? Huh? Didja? Didja? Does anyone care? I didn't think so.

I told you there were other ways to mess up skinning a cat.

The name "Barbara" is of Greek and Latin origin, basically meaning "foreign woman." It was a common name in Scotland . The Gaelic form is "Barabell" (BA-ra-bul). The Scots-Gaelic form is "Barabal." The Irish -Gaelic form is "Báirbre" (BAR-bruh) and the pet form "Baibín" (BAB-een).

The name "Richard" means powerful; strong ruler. It's also a Teutonic name from the European Middle Ages. England 's King Richard Coeur de Lion was a crusading knight.

"Bruce" was a surname since medieval times and is now a common given name. A folklore tale of 14th century Robert King of Scotland says: (the Bruce) who learned the value of perseverance from watching a spider spin a web.

Logan 's name is Scottish that means "Finnian's servant."

The origin of "Victor" is Spanish meaning "Victor."

I apologize for being so anachronistic. My friend, I'll try harder to be in synch (no pun intended) with history.

**And thank you for everyone's input/reviews. I really do appreciate it! Keeps me in line, you see.**

For those people who actually read the **A/N, **I dedicate this chapter to: 

BrassBanana, byebyebb18, Abby, RavenGhost, x-RAVEN-x, Jinnai, Terra Nova, writerofthefuture, Lain the fluff-master, Deadly Eyes, and Chiaki Nozomi

Ah, hell. Why not?

-Knight.B

Oh yeah, my little website is up. The address is in my user lookup page. Would you take a gander at it? Pleeeeeeaaaaase?


End file.
